


Closure

by grav_ity



Series: grav_ity plays dragon age origins [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grav_ity/pseuds/grav_ity
Summary: Ferelden is secure and the king is secure, and Kentha still has things to do. (Spoilers: Awakenings, Achievement Unlocked: First Knight)





	Closure

**Author's Note:**

> SO I PLAYED AWAKENINGS and it was fun. Not as emotionally compromising as Origins, but honestly, that's probably for the best. I was SUPER PISSED about Mhairi, though. So I fixed it. And, uh, a few other things. The timeline makes no sense, but also I don't care.

After only a few days on the road with Warden-Recruit Mhairi, Kentha has reached a decision. It will take some fast talking and quite a bit of good timing, but Kentha was born persuasive, and lately, people seem more likely to give her their time. 

She’s not without regrets, of course. A part of her will always feel left out. But the larger part of her, the part that serves Fereldon, will get what it needs. So that night, when the camp is pitched and she sits across the fire from a girl who took control of her own destiny, Kentha begins.

“There are many reasons to become a Grey Warden,” she says. “Some look for glory or renown. Some are criminals, saved from the noose. Some are trying to escape. I myself was recruited at a time of great stress and felt I had no other options that didn’t lead to a more swift death than the one I’d get if I took the oath.”

She pauses for a second, as she always does, with her mother and father standing before her. They disappear in the smoke, and Mhairi does not interrupt.

“What about you, Mhairi?” Kentha finally asks. “What brings you to the Grey?”

She is almost certain she knows the answer. Mhairi has let slip enough about her past that Kentha is pretty sure she has all the pieces. But for this she must be _sure_. She must hear it from Mhairi herself.

“I suppose I fall into the escape category,” Mhairi says, with some regret. As though she wanted to be nobler in purpose and feels she has fallen short. “My life was not my own, so I decided I might as well be in the army. I did well there, and I didn’t have to marry someone I barely knew. And I could serve Fereldon. I suppose that’s why I want to be a Grey Warden, Lady Commander. It is the best way I know of to serve my country.”

There is no way that Mhairi is just saying what Kentha wants to hear. The girl is clever, but there is no guile in her, none of the cunning that would see Kentha’s goal and seek to exploit it. And yet, she has said exactly the words that Kentha needs.

“What if there was another way to serve?” Kentha asks. “A way that you had not considered?”

“I would do it, of course,” Mhairi says. “If I could.”

“Even if it meant you could not be a Grey Warden?” Kentha presses.

Mhairi takes a moment to consider.

“I want to stop the darkspawn and protect my country,” Mhairi says. “I thought the best way to do that was to take the oath. But I know I do not have all the kingdom’s information at my fingertips, Lady Commander. If there is another service I might do, I would hear it.”

Kentha stands and fetches another log from the small pile they collected against the chill of night. She adds it to the fire, and stretches.

“I must speak with another before we progress,” she says. “But I would not have denied you your dream, had it been solely for the Warden’s title.”

“It is not, my lady commander,” Mhairi says. “I will try to be patient.”

++

They do not speak on the matter again, mostly because the darkspawn have invaded the Vigil, and they spend all of their time driving them back. At last, the Keep is made safe, and more travellers are spotted on the road. Kentha cannot blame her seneschal for his nerves, but she would recognize the man who walks at the front of the line in the darkest of nights on the deepest of roads.

The King hasn’t come to stay, of course. He cannot stay anywhere for long. Kentha knows he shouldn’t even be here, and thinks briefly about the mountain of paperwork that no doubt sits on her desk back in Denerim. He’s perfectly capable of being a politician, but he would rather be loved. She can hardly blame him, and, oh, how they love him in Fereldon now. Still, his presence is not entirely unwelcome. It saves her having to write a very strange letter.

A word to the chamberlain, a consummate professional who only allows one eyebrow to drift upwards at the strangeness of her request, and Kentha has done what she can to start.

It’s not a feast, by any means, but it is a good, hot meal, set out formally in the great hall, and everyone in the castle who is able to come is invited. Alistair sits at the high table, Kentha on his left. On her left sits Varel, who she already likes well enough. On the king’s right sits Ser Mhairi.

She’s obviously uncomfortable and Alistair is incapable of not setting her at her ease. He draws her into conversation with stories about his days as a Warden-Recruit, and makes her laugh with that ridiculous drinking game story. He can tell it without his voice cracking, now, which makes Kentha feel all sorts of strange ways. It’s not like she hasn’t changed, but she fought very hard for Alistair’s soul, and she’s about to do something rather direct on that front again.

Their meager dinner does not take long, and soon after it is done, they retire. Kentha sits by the fire and waits to see if the next stage of her plan will go forward.

++

It’s less than an hour later when he knocks on her door and lets himself in. He’s dressed simply, but in rather more layers than he used to wear when he came to her at night. She doesn’t begrudge him the unconventional armour.

“What are you about, then?” Alistair says. He pours himself a drink from her side table and sits down in the chair opposite hers. He looks at her for a moment, and then stares into the fire.

“Mhairi is an excellent soldier and an adaptive one,” Kentha says. “She is thoughtful, she is loyal, and she loves Fereldon more than she loves anything else.”

Alistair says nothing.

“Sound her out,” Kentha continues. “Do not let her tell you that she is too common. She has made her life what it is, and she has done it for all the right reasons. She is the sort of person—the sort of woman—you need.”

If he didn’t like the idea, he would joke. If he didn’t see the wisdom in it, he would say something about how _he_ was very nearly too common for the throne. If he didn’t want it, just a little bit, she wouldn’t push him.

“All right,” he says.

And that is that.

++

Kentha doesn’t go to the wedding. She wishes to, with her whole and honest heart, but the threats in Amaranthine are too great. So she hugs Mhairi and kisses her on the cheek, and sends her off to Denerim to be queen. Then she goes into the Keep’s hall, and watches while a dwarf, a mage, and a thief become Grey Wardens.

She passes the next few months frantically trying to hold everything together, again, and succeeds by the skin of her teeth, again. The city of Amaranthine is saved, and though the Keep has fallen, her work to restore it before the battle was joined ensured a high survival rate and, according to Voldrik, the rebuilding will not take too long. She’s stopped asking for details from the dwarf, and after the visible proof of what his walls did, she doesn’t think anyone will complain at his much-expanded budget.

It’s a few weeks before she is able to leave and ride to the capital. She tells Gareval, who she tries not to dislike by virtue of missing his predecessor, that her report must be made in person, but the truth is that her motives are just a little bit selfish. She cannot possibly take Anders or Oghren with her, and Nathaniel is enjoying being a hero again too much for her to justify tearing him away. She requests that Justice ride with her as far as the city, and then he is free to do as he likes, and he agrees.

Theirs is a silent ride across country. Justice is fascinated with birds and flowers in a way that Kentha can’t bring herself to take amusement at. But he’s a solid companion, which is one of the reasons she is going to miss him. When they part at the city gates, she knows she will not see him again.

++

Alistair is away from the castle for the day, something about new ships and an ambassador down at the harbour. He’s taken her hound with him. They had argued about it when she left for the Keep, about which of them was more in need of the hound’s companionship, and Kentha had won. It was a bitter victory, waking up without the Mabari all those nights fighting darkspawn dreams, but worth it to keep the king’s safety from pressing on her too. 

Kentha doesn’t mind waiting to deliver her formal report. She’s tired, and could use a bit of time to recover before she sees him. When the queen summons her, though, she doesn’t hesitate, trading her riding gear for a simple and comfortable dress with some relief.

Mhairi looks well. Out of armour, she is softer in appearance—something Kentha knows all too well is an illusion—but she seems comfortable in her bright rooms, and whenever some member of the household comes in to ask a question about some matter or another, her answers are confident and quick. Kentha begins to relax.

Mhairi is sewing a tunic that Kentha doesn’t recognize, but is definitely in Alistair’s size. Kentha feels at loose ends with nothing to occupy her hands, and when she says as much, Mhairi laughs and gestures to the workbasket.

“My mother always told me that if you’re sewing, you can overhear all sorts of things, because men don’t believe you can do two things at once,” Mhairi tells her, with a grin.

“She’s probably right,” Kentha says. She selects a leather greave she suspects belongs to Mhairi herself, and gets out the appropriate tools. “And it is always a good idea to be self-sufficient.”

“Indeed,” Mhairi says.

They sit for a while, and Mhairi tells her of everything that has gone on in Denerim since Kentha was last in the city. Hearing the queen talk, and realizing the things she saw with her trader-born eyes, Kentha realizes that there might not be quite as much work waiting on her desk as she thought.

Eventually they turn to the topic of reconstruction, avoiding mention of the Keep so that king might hear it first.

“And so we’ve finally turned to the palace,” Mhairi says, at the end of a long description of the new work that was done in the market and the Alienage. “It’s been a long process, but the plans are solid and I have taken the opportunity to update a few castle features.”

Having spent a lot of time discussing fortifications with a dwarf, Kentha feels complete sympathy for the situation. There’s hot water inside the Vigil now, and honestly it might be the best thing Kentha has ever experienced.

Well. That she gets to keep experiencing, anyway.

“Your suite is functional, Lady Chancellor?” Mhairi asks, and the switch of Kentha’s title does not go unnoticed.

“It is,” Kentha says. “I still haven’t learned my way around the palace, but it’s on this floor, is it not?”

“Sort of,” Mhairi replies. “The royal suite is two floors with the new design. Something about pipes and air circulation. It does mean my bedroom is warmer, I will tell you that for free.”

Kentha laughed.

“Also,” Mhairi says, as calmly as if she was telling Kentha what they’ll be having for dinner. “There is a passageway between the king’s dressing room and your sitting room that might be useful. It’s not on the architect’s plans, but the dwarf who built it assured me it would be sufficient.”

Kentha does not jab the needle into her finger, but she does penetrate the leather with rather more force than necessary.

“My lady?” she says.

“We are all very clever, despite how one of us tries to hide it,” Mhairi says. “And we all know what our tasks are. And I am glad of mine. I want you to be glad as well.”

“Your Majesty,” Kentha says, setting the greave in her lap. “I need you to say it plainly.”

“My husband loves two things, Kentha,” she says. Mhairi looks her straight in the eyes. “I have his respect and, I think, a measure of fondness. But I have what I love, and I would not deny him or you the same.”

“Mhairi,” Kentha says, forgetting where they are.

“You have given so much, my friend,” Mhairi says. “Let me give you this.”

Kentha can only nod, too overcome with emotion to speak. Mhairi, it seems, understands.

++

Kentha waits in her sitting room, trying not to burst at the seams. The door she had overlooked before now looms large in her view, and the knowledge of what lies beyond it pulls at her heart. She told him no, once, when he offered her this. But that was different. That was an arrangement between two people, and this is an arrangement between three. Moreover, it was cooked up by the person it was mostly likely to hurt, should anything backfire. Kentha has never been so sure of anything in her life, but she is only one person.

After what feels like an age, there is a knock. Kentha rises to answer the door, and there he is. Alistair hovers like he is unsure of his welcome, even though she can tell by the look on his face that he has already decided what he wants.

“I know I hurt you very deeply,” he says. “You have no reason to let me in.”

“I have every reason,” Kentha says.

She takes his hands in hers and pulls him inside. He is awkward and restrained, and a hundred memories rush through her. She kisses his knuckles. Something in him shifts, and he moves their hands to her waist, spinning around so that she is pressed up against the door he just came through.

His kiss is an offering, a gift. It comes with the heated urgency of their history and a quiet hope for their future. She burns with it, with him, and only wants more.

“I can only offer you what I was when we met,” he says, trailing kisses down her neck. At her hips, his fingers dig in and hold her when she squirms. “But I love you. I love you.”

She rakes her hands down the back of his linen shirt and pulls it out of his trousers so she can touch his skin. He crowds her up against the door and starts to lift her skirt.

“I loved you in the mud beside the road,” she says. He pulls at her smallclothes and she steps out of them. “I loved you when you could hardly speak for shyness. Your heart is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You have it,” he says.

She unlaces his trousers and pushes down. The wonderful familiarness of him presses against her belly, and she hooks an ankle around his waist to brace herself. Grinning, he picks up her other leg and carries her weight between himself and the door.

“Show off,” she says, laughing as he slides into her. It’s as sure as anything she’s ever felt, and she would gladly stay in this moment forever if she didn’t know what was waiting for her in the moments to come.

“Shut up,” he says, with an impossible fondness and begins to move.

She does not, in fact, shut up. But she does stop using words.

++

The next morning, the King and Queen of Fereldon receive their Chancellor in the main hall. Kentha gives her report and listens to the assembled nobles gasp with shock as they realize how close it was. There should not be any trouble raising funds for the Wardens now.

Alistair rises at the end of it, and thanks her again for saving the kingdom. Mhairi stands beside him, and when he is done speaking, it is she who descends the steps to where Kentha stands. The queen embraces her in front of the court, an acceptance for all to see, but her words are for the Warden-Chancellor alone.

“Welcome home, Kentha,” she says. “We are glad you’re safe.”

In the full light of day and in front of the nobles and the Maker Himself, Kentha smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for this wonderful welcome into Dragon Age fandom. I've been here for, like, a week, and it's been an absolute delight. I can't wait to get to the next game.
> 
> There might be one more fic in this series. I have a Dark Wolf idea that didn't mesh with the tone of this, but it's just too good to pass up. But this is more or less the end of my playthrough. See you next time!


End file.
